Knowing Harry
by Abforth
Summary: Ginevra Weasley has a secret. It could ruin her family, her job and the rickety peace now settled across the wizarding world. Harry Potter knows this secret, and sets out to make the choices his father once made a long time ago. But something’s up with Ha


**Authors Note: **Big thanks have to go to Texasmagic, if not for her this story would probably be yet another one of those ideas on my desktopBig Hugs to my other long suffering muses: Aranel and Ravenne, and also to Gonz.

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary**: Ginevra Weasley has a secret. It could ruin her family, her job and the rickety peace now settled across the wizarding world. Harry Potter knows this secret, and sets out to make the choices his father once made a long time ago. But something's up with Harry and Ginny must find out what, before both of them tear the wizarding world apart.

Follow the story set out by Ginevra Weasley years later, when she quills 'Knowing Harry'

**Warning**: A small amount of violence ahead and the occasional use of strong language.

**Prologue**

The sun tipped below the horizon, barely visible through the stormy clouds. It was raining hard. Most of the trees stood naked against the onslaught, twisting in the wind. She hated winter. The cold would seep through the stone walls of the small cottage, infiltrating every crack, whistling winds through every hole and draughts through every door.

Winter, she'd long since decided, was a time of death. And she would count down the days to the first bud on the oak tree in the garden, or the first fat bumblebee searching for a nest. And she would know that another year had passed, another year had gone.

There was a racking cough in the corner, and she poured the herb brew into a goblet. She made her way towards the bed; it took longer than she would have liked, but old age was one war even the greatest wizard could not win.

"Here love, drink," she coaxed.

"Will you read it?" he wheezed, reaching out a bony hand.

She smiled, pushing her glorious hair behind her ear. "Only if you drink."

He caught strands of hair between his fingers, "Beautiful," he barely whispered. Despite herself, she was caught in his gaze, drawn in beyond her body, where she could still dance spiritedly along the waters edge.

"Drink," she commanded again. He needed help to drink, but she didn't mind.

When he was once again lying still, watching her, he smiled. "Read."

The fire was uncomfortably hot, but better that than let the cold in. She pulled the book on the mantelpiece under her arm and hobbled back to her chair. Her bones melted into the soft cushions and for a while she was content to sit. That was until an insistent poke in her knee made her aware she'd almost fallen asleep.

"Alright, alright!" she laughed, and she began to read.

**Knowing Harry******

**by Ginevra Weasley**

**Foreword**

There are many books written about and for Harry Potter, whether it be text book, record of his defeats of You-Know-Who or a scandalous article detailing his love life. But they all miss something very vital: heart. It is easy to write facts, or make up a fairy tale story of how a young boy could defeat great power. But in truth, there is nothing glorious about the life of Harry Potter; if told in the right way, his life could sound like a terrible Greek tragedy. The real light of his heroism is not that he survived through this time, but that he lived through it.

And so for Harry, I write about his life. Not his amazing defeat of a Dark Lord or some fantastic journey through his eyes, but his life.

**Dedication**

_For Harry, with love from your family._

Chapter 1:

**Monday, Monday**

****

Harry Potter was always skinny and scruffy looking. Not what you'd call amazingly handsome, or come to think of it, what you called hero-like. No rippling biceps, wash board abs or Witch Weekly's most handsome smile. Oh no, not my Harry! In fact people quite frequently pass over him without a second glance. Nutters! Then again, he does seem to have honed a skill of blending into crowds, as if he'd really rather not be noticed. However, Harry's eyes hold the most intense, overwhelming power – as though your inner thoughts are being read, catalogued and filed for future reference. His eyes have always been my greatest weakness, and even after hours of promising myself not to give in to him, one glance and I would have gladly sacrificed my very being just to please him. What can I say? I always have and always will be, _addicted_.

When I was very young, mum would tell me how one day I would fall in love with a great hero just like Harry Potter, and he would be handsome, brave and true, and I never once pictured Harry. Well, not till I was ten anyhow, because before then my hero was dashing, tall, well built and with a gorgeous smile, always knowing exactly what to say at the right moment. I remember quite clearly at the age of ten seeing Harry for the first time, of course I didn't know who he was, but nevertheless I was won. I remember thinking how his clothes were far too big for him and that he needed feeding up, but it was the lost look in his eyes mingled with the hope and excitement, like an innocent prisoner set free, that drew me to him. I remember watching him board the train, and the shock to realise _he_ was Harry Potter. I remember craning to get another look, surely I missed something; heroes couldn't look, well, _normal_… With a shirt that looked like it had had a good life as a tent, and glasses held together with sellotape!

I wanted more than anything to go to Hogwarts with Ron that year, but unfortunately I was left to brood at the Burrow about green-eyed heroes on my own, and if it hadn't been for my brothers' letters home, I'd have gone mental.

To begin with, it was a bright sunny day in Diagon Alley, the heat bounced off stones and despite the early hour it was already too hot. The Alley wasn't yet that busy, so strolling down the uneven cobbles was unusually easy, and I took my time, gazing into windows, despite the fact I was already a few minutes late. A very plump witch sat outside on a stool, fan flapping vigorously in front of her face. She smiled happily at me in return and tapped the fan with her wand so that it increased in speed. A dog half-heartedly barked at me from under a table, and a pale but beautiful witch scowled at me before returning to staring at something across the street. Before I could work out what she was staring at, I spotted Harry off to one side, happily eating away at a large pile of ice cream.

Grinning, I threw myself down in the empty chair beside him. "Why you hiding away in the corner?"

He looked up at me in surprise, before giving me a lopsided grin. "Morning, want some ice cream?"

"For breakfast?" I said, taking the spoon he offered. "Mum'll have our heads if she finds out."

"I won't tell if you don't! Anyway, it's my birthday!"

"Yeah, happy birthday! Here, it's not much but I know you like 'em." I dropped a box of Dulcedo's Chocolate Witches on the table and he blushed furiously.

"What… who told you.. I.. never.. I don't!" he stuttered, staring at the little naked chocolate witches.

"Oh Harry, it's your 21st birthday and I couldn't resist! At least I didn't give them to you in front of my mum!" I grinned madly, "I'm saving that embarrassment for Ron's next birthday."

He grabbed the box, opened it and upturned the dancing witches on the ice cream, a pink tinge still flushing up his neck and I couldn't help sniggering. I'd been a bit worried how Harry might take the gift, but I'd long ago given up on giving him special treatment.

"You're mad," he said in a voice filled with admiration and grinned widely at me. Scooping up a few witches with my spoon, I grinned right back at him as one of the witches winked at me.

"So," I said between mouthfuls of vanilla ice cream, "what we up to today?"

"Cinema I reckon, haven't been in years and I always wanted to go for my birthday. Or maybe we should go the Zoo, set free a few more snakes…"

My stomach twisted uncomfortably, Harry was never bothered by his use of Parseltongue but it always made hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

"Sorry, the cinema is a big screen that Muggles play pictures on," he said, misinterpreting my reaction to the news.

"Yeah, I remember from Muggle Studies," I said, curious to see the Muggle invention for myself. "Can we travel on the underground?" I asked excitedly.

Harry looked amused and nodded. "I wonder where Ron and Hermione are?"

"Probably arguing themselves to death on the way out of the flat, and I'm not sure, but I think they argue _more_ now that their going out."

"Definitely, they used to drive me mad. I made them apologise once."

I couldn't help laughing at Harry's sheepish expression. "I'd have hexed them both years ago!"

"Yeah," he said, lapsing in to silence. Lazing back in my chair and I took in the surrounding street; already it was growing steadily busier. The plump witch had fallen asleep and the beautiful blond had disappeared, apparently having found something more interesting to stare at.

"How's the flat going?" asked Harry, scooping up some ice cream.

"Huh? Oh it's weird living on my own. Bill came over and placed about a hundred wards up. The Muggle downstairs makes enough noise for it to seem like home, but it's cool. I know where every sock is and if I place something in the fridge, it's still there when I get back! It's great!"

An odd expression crossed his face, "You don't find it a bit… empty?"

"Well… yes, I guess so. It'd be nice to shout at someone for leaving the toilet seat up every once in a while I suppose."

"Happy birthday!" said Ron, making us both jump. "Ice cream! Come on, share a bit Harry…" Ron swiped for my spoon, missing as I shot back in my chair.

"I _am_ sharing," said Harry, nodding in my direction.

"Do you know how unhealthy it is to eat ice cream for breakfast?" asked Hermione, sitting down beside me. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, what would Mrs Weasley say…"

"Yah, well, she's not here is she?" said Ron, eyeing the closely guarded ice cream.

Hermione sighed and produced a card for Harry. Grinning, he reached out and took it, sliding (to Ron's dismay) the ice cream in my direction. Hermione gave a polite cough and shot Ron a meaningful look, when he appeared not to notice, she elbowed him.

"Ow! What was that for? Honestly woman!" he scowled, rubbing his side, but nevertheless produced a present for Harry.

The badly wrapped package sat in front of Harry as he started to dissect what was wrapping paper and what wasn't. Eventually he went for tearing the paper off and a pair of tartan slippers sat in front of him. Harry looked quizzically round the table, before picking one up.

"They're McSlinkies, I thought they'd be perfect for when you do our Stealth and Reconnaissance course. They make your footsteps completely silent and undetectable."

"Great, thanks guys!"

"Are those Dulcedo's Chocolate Witches?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Familiar with them are you Ron?" I asked with mischievous glee.

"Harry! Happy birthday from the Daily Prophet! Enjoying your birthday? Got a nice pair of slippers did you?"

I remember being a bit dazed as the reporter, who had horrible green hair and a wart on his forehead, had practically pounced on our table. Before any of us could react he'd snapped all four of us looking up in bewilderment.

Harry scooped up his present under one arm and stood up, making his way out in to the alley. Ron scowled at the reporter, who seemed to realise that any attempt at following wouldn't be good for his health.

As we made our way through the Leaky Cauldron, I pulled off my robe, having thankfully decided to wear a summer dress underneath this morning. Ron and Hermione seemed to already know we were heading in to the Muggle world and led the way.

Tantus Manor sits on the outskirts of a busy town on the border of Wales and England. Back then, it was owned by a tall skinny Muggle with a lot of time, money and garden to tend to. In the winter when his garden was hibernating, he would whisk himself off to his villa in Spain and return in early spring looking like a wrinkled prune with a horrible tan.

The house wasn't really a manor but an old Georgian house that the owner had made into a group of flats; he resided on the bottom floor and strictly forbid anyone from touching or entering his gardens.

My flat had been the top floor, and consisted of low roofed rooms and very little space. But I found the cramped conditions homely and the guy who had lived below me was unbelievably noisy, so it all added to the effect. The Burrow was and still is always cramped and lively. The only problem was that the manor was full of Muggles, which meant restricted magic.

My one consolation was the rooftop garden, a small glassed off area that sat atop the building like a glinting jewel. It was never very big, due to the large numbers of flowers and herbs, but there was enough room there for a small comfortable chair. And I could go sit under the glass panelling and stare into the night sky to my hearts content.

August 1st dawned a heavy brooding sky. The threat of rain made the day oppressive and despite the respite from the sun it was still extremely humid. I sat eating a piece of toast staring up at the sky, mentally going through my plan for the day. My diary sat open beside me; butter and crumbs smudged the pages. An owl dropped through the open glass panel and sat staring unblinkingly at my toast.

"Don't even think about it," I warned, going into the kitchen to fetch some Knuts. I paid the owl and relieved him of his burden – but not before he grabbed my toast and bolted through the open panel. Muttering oaths and curses, I stomped back into the kitchen and slammed open the bread bin, only to remember I'd used the last slice of bread. I should have known right then that the only thing to do was to crawl back into bed. But instead I toddled unhappily into work, _Daily Prophet_ clutched in hand.

You would think that after the disappointed look the guy from filing gave me, and the knowing look shot by the receptionist in my direction, I would have guessed something was up. But alas, it wasn't until I reached my Department (Department for Mental and Magical Welfare), that I glanced at the front page. Staring right back at me was yours truly! Harry and I were eating ice cream and daydreaming… well I was… but Harry was staring right at picture me. I didn't remember that. I looked closer at the picture.

_'LOVERS EAT ICE CREAM IN SUNSHINE!'_

'The Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal that young Harry Potter (21 yesterday) may have finally found true love! In Diagon Alley, at the business of reputed Ice Cream seller Florean Fortesque, Ginevra Weasley (daughter of Ministry worker, Arthur Weasley,) and Harry Potter (many times defeater of You-Know-Who) were spotted lovingly sharing an ice cream. It appears to this reporter that the couple are simply smitten with each other and can report hearing their plans to move in together in the near future. The Prophet can only assume the couple intends to marry! Thousands of witches across Britain will be heartily dismayed at the news, but I'm sure they will join me in wishing the couple every happiness in the future, but also a Happy Birthday to Harry, as he celebrated his 21st Birthday yesterday. 

_Reporter: Verde Wortner  
_  
"You look like Hell," said Kynthia, appearing at the edge of my desk. I blankly handed her the newspaper, which she took with a look of confusion, but before long she was laughing.

"It's not funny!" I mumbled, standing and tapping the kettle.

"Engaged as well! Can I be bridesmaid?" she asked, grinning madly. I shot her a look and filled up my teapot. "Charming! Well, the boss wants to see you," she glanced down at the paper in her hands, "ten guesses as to why!"

She wandered back towards her desk, reading the article an inch away from her nose. "Oy! That's my paper!" I yelled after her, but she was already behind the protective shields of her desk.

I relaxed back into the chair, sipping my tea and wondering how long I could put off going to see Thornbrew in his office. Resigned to my fate, I got up and Kynthia gave me a sympathetic look before I knocked at his door.

"Come in," came the polite reply. As soon as he saw who it was however, all vestiges of politeness were gone and his nose twitched. "Weasley, shut the door and take a seat."

Highly suspicious I took a seat and waited, as he opened and shut his mouth a few times. Midas Thornbrew was very round, very rude and had the patience of a Swedish Short-Snout. Normally he would have been roaring about indecent press and the reputation of the department by now.

"Have you seen today's paper Weasley?" he asked in measured tones.

"Yes…"

"Is there any erm… truth to the rumours?" he asked, fiddling with the paper in front of him. Then it struck me what he was getting at; Harry Potter, famous and influential wizard…

"Well sir, we're very good friends," I replied, smoothing my face into an expression of innocence. No need for him to know that Harry and I only ever spoke when the old DA group or the Weasleys were together.

A look of panic shot through his eyes, "You… you never mentioned him."

"No sir," I replied.

"Well… er... Silverswitch was promoted this morning. You'll be taking on her files, they'll be at your desk."

"What?" I all but shouted; I really should work on that temper.

He flushed and his eyes bored in to me, "If you'd rather I gave them to Andrews..."

I struggled for a second, thinking of Andrews. He'd only been working in the department a few weeks, the poor guy looked overwhelmed as it was.

"Andrew's isn't ready…"

"Very well then, off you go, you can have her desk. I'm assigning Andrews as your understudy for the week."

I nodded and stood up, stumbling from the office and towards my old desk. Kynthia poked her head around her cubicle and raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

"He's given me Siverswitch's desk," I said looking towards the empty cubicle beside her own. Kynthia looked ecstatic.

"Finally someone I can work with, Sivy was such a bitch. Want help to move your stuff?"

"Sure," I said, still a bit dazed. I groaned under my breath, Andrews as an understudy and Sivy's files! Just my luck! Andrews was nice, he just had a tendency to question, everything, every five minutes.

She grinned at me and helped me move my stuff from the draftee desk on the end into the cubicle. It only took us one trip, and soon I was gazing at the bare fabric walls and wondering where to start. Andrew's stuck his head around the door, looking nervous.

"Err, hey Miss Weasley. Erm," he wrung his hands, "Thornbrew told me to, come see you…"

"Pull up a chair, and call me Ginny."

"Really?" he said enthusiastically, and almost jumped in to the chair beside me. "That's really nice of you, call me Thomas, or Tom for short if you like, it was my dad's name." He smiled at me. _Tom…_ I felt a chill in my stomach and forced a smile.

"All right Thomas, well… have you gone over the Decree for Werewolf Rights and Welfare? Right well, Hermione got the-"

"You know Ms Granger by first name?" he asked in awe.

"What, oh yes. She _is_ dating my brother…" I waved him off. Thank god he didn't read the paper, we'd be forced to miss lunch at this rate. "Anyway she got the decree finally changed two weeks ago. It's our responsibility to…"

"I read the changes, quite magnificent work. How will we implement the changes, precisely?"

"Well, that's what we have to work out." I took a deep breath; this was going to be a very long morning…

By the time I made my way to the canteen at lunchtime, I wanted nothing more than to implement the Killing Curse on Andrews… may be I could ask my new fiancée to bend a few rules. Smiling to myself, I didn't notice the wizard waiting by the entrance and walked straight into him.

"Oof!"

"Oh, I'm so… Harry?" Oh course it would be. Someone in the universe had it in for me.

"Hey, Gin," he said, rubbing his chest.

"I didn't see you, I was on my way… well, I'm sorry!"

"Ah, and I thought you wanted to move in and marry me…" he said, with a lopsided smile.

Oh god, I was blushing. Damned Weasley heritage! Still, the rebellious part whispered, he's teasing you, that's an improvement.

"I…"

"Gin," he said, pulling my arm so that we moved down the hall out of the way. "Be careful, we still haven't found…" he paused, and a mixed look crossed his face, "everyone. I want you to be careful. While we may not take it seriously, some of Voldemort's lot might. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to… any of you."

"It's alright, Harry. I can take care of myself." I smiled, even as my insides warred, for a second there I'd thought he was going to say… urgh. Wizards!

He pushed his hand through his hair, causing it to sprawl everywhere. "Anyway, I was going to grab a sandwich, I'll err, see you later." He gave me a quick look (those eyes!) and strolled off, looking harassed. I followed hesitantly, and pushed my way into the canteen.

Tapping a tray so that it followed me, I went to see what delightful treats the food counter might hold in store today. After choosing an overpriced plate of what I think was Spaghetti Bolognaise, I found Andrews waving over enthusiastically at me from across the room, noticing the strange looks; I slid towards their table and sat down.

"Did lover boy find you?" asked Kynthia with a feral smile.

"Shove it Muddleworth," I replied, spearing a bit of mushroom (or potato?) with my fork.

"So touchy! He was hanging around the door looking for you, did he find you?" she asked, learning across the table.

Pleased to hear Harry was looking for me, I thought I managed to hide my delight rather well.

"You got it bad, don't ya?" she asked pointedly.

Then again, maybe not.

Gulping down a bit of bread, I asked, "Where's Colin? Isn't he supposed to be meeting us?"

"Don't change the subject Weasley!" She handed me a goblet of water, when I almost choked on a piece of bread.

My eyes flicked across at Andrews who was listening attentively, moving from face to face, like he was watching one of those Muggle tennis matches Hermione's so fond of.

Thankfully Colin dropped into the next seat. "You've broken my heart."

I rolled my eyes, "I am not engaged to Harry Potter!" I replied slamming down my fork and getting a few wary glances. Unfortunately, I managed to drop spaghetti on my robes in the process.

"What, oh, like I'd believe the _Prophet_," he said with scorn. "Nah, I'm talking about that wizard in filing – the one with that _arse – _word is he thinks you're dishy."

Truly baffled I stared at him. "Dishy? Malcolm said that?"

"Yuck no! I have some standards! No, his new assistant," he replied, sighing and taking out his wand. He yanked my hand away from the robes I was vigorously trying to clean with my wand. "Honestly, you'll have a hole if you carry on."

"You, you fancy Tasgall Trimmings?" asked Andrew. Wide eyed he stared at Colin both disgusted and fascinated.

Colin cleaned my robes with a flick, and looked Andrew right in the eye. "Yes," he replied, unabashed.

"Problem Andrews?" Kynthia asked, with narrowed eyes.

He visibly shied away, and picked at his sandwich. Andrews didn't speak another word for the entire lunch, while Colin and Kynthia swapped the sordid but apparently fascinating tales of the wizarding world. They were two of the biggest gossips I'd had ever met, and sometimes I was almost convinced that they'd forgotten I was sat at the table.

After lunch, Andrew disappeared in to the filing section to sort some of the files. I managed to double my speed, although I still hadn't come up with a solution on how to implement Hermione's new decree. The house-elf matter hadn't been difficult. It'd taken a lot of talking and explaining to baffled elves, but while it was hardly perfect, they at least _knew_ they had options.

But the werewolf problem was a whole new bag of pixies… I was mulling the problem over when Kynthia stuck her head into my office.

"Fancy getting out of the office? Muggles have spotted a unicorn in Bristol. Regulations are already there, Muggles have been dealt with, told them it was a hoax. But we need to go down and deal with the unicorn, we may have to relocate."

I pulled the watch out of my pocket; we were due to finish in fifteen minutes anyway. "Sure, one sec. Let me put away my files." I opened my new filing cabinet at my feet, dropped in the files and locked them with my wand.

A few minutes later, we arrived in a Muggle housing estate in Bristol. After speaking to the Regulation wizards, who'd Apparated as soon as they'd pointed us towards the last place the unicorn was spotted, we started towards the woodland. Sighing, we both split up and I wandered in the opposite direction down the path. I walked a few minutes, keeping my footsteps gentle so as not to startle the creature. It was beginning to rain gently and, cursing, I trudged on, peering through the trees. After a while it was raining too heavily; my Impervius Charm was keeping me dry but I couldn't see the path very well. Gathering my robes in my hands to stop me tripping, I decided to go for a bit of cross-country. The canopy blocked much of the rain, and I started back in the direction I'd come.

Then I almost tripped over a root; I reached forward to stop my fall and caught hold of fabric.

"Kynthia, what…" my voice died in my throat. I didn't even have a chance to reach for my wand, before something very solid hit the back of my head. The world span and suddenly, I felt very far away.

It was dark and very cold when I awoke. My Impervius Charm had long since worn off, and I was soaked right through to my knickers. Unsteadily I tried to get to my feet, wondering why Kynthia hadn't come looking for me. My eyes started to adjust to the darkness; there was a thick cord attached to my waist and then to a nearby tree. It allowed me to stand up, but not move away from the tree. Breathing in the chilly night, I began to wonder what in Merlin's name was going on.

The moon broke through a small break in the canopy long enough for me to see my wand. It looked like the buggers had measured the exact minimum distance I would need to reach it. I stretched out on the floor and extended my legs as far as I could, trying to kick the wand towards myself, once I'd determined that it wasn't going to work, I tried undoing knots and wriggling my way out of it. The wriggling was yielding promising results, and I was deliberating how to get it over my bust, when a sound turned my skin to ice.

I heard an animal panting. I thought I saw something move in the shadows, ebony against black. Which, you can imagine, did not help the situation. It is very difficult to breath with a rope tied tightly around one's ribcage.

Tugging on the rope with a little more enthusiasm, I listened. I listened so much that my ears started to ring. But I could still hear it, in the undergrowth: moving, panting, rustling around.

I froze and crouched to the ground. I tried to calm my breathing so that I could listen for a sound. But I was breathing too hard, and the gentle pattering of the rain was making it hard to hear. I wished desperately for some light, but that'd only attract the animal closer.

Merlin I hoped it was a fox, or a kneazle… what a laugh that would be!

Then something rustled clearly in the dark, and in the distance, I saw a shadow move. A _large_ shadow. I choked in panic, trying to keep still - maybe it wouldn't notice me. I concentrated on breathing gently, ignoring my fears, and very slowly reached to tug desperately again on the rope.

It growled gently, nearing, and I still couldn't see it. Giving up on the very thick and unyielding rope I tried my wand again. "Accio wand!" I whispered desperately. In the darkness, I thought I could just make it out; it had wiggled.

"Accio wand," I whispered more determinedly.

Then it was there, sniffing at the ground, sounding only a few feet away. I could hear it quite clearly; it gave a low-pitched growl. The moon broke through the rain clouds and for one terrorising and brief moment I got my first good look at a fully-grown werewolf. No words written down on paper can describe the sight.

Oh, it did indeed have glowing eyes, as yellow as two suns in the darkness. It was as large as a hippogriff, even as it crouched low and stalked towards me. But worst of all were its teeth. You can _imagine_ what sharp teeth look like; you can imagine they'd hurt. But these were the most gloriously sharp teeth, designed for the hunt, to piece skin, for killing. And I was its prey.

A scream of absolute terror tore from my throat, and in reply it howled to the night sky.

"Accio wand!" I cried in desperation, as the werewolf gathered up its bulk, and leaped.


End file.
